


These Idiots

by Golden4278



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Protective! Shane, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Valentine's Day, idiots to lovers, jealous! Ryan, not actually unrequitted love, oh no one bed what do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden4278/pseuds/Golden4278
Summary: Ryan is thrilled when he finds out Shane won them a free weekend stay at a luxury resort. The only catch? It's a couple's retreat! With only one bed and lots of quality time together, what could possibly happen?!
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 200
Kudos: 527
Collections: Shyan Valentine's Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No disrespect intended towards the boys or their significant others. I don't mean any harm; this is just my emotional support unrealistic fantasy.
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Roses are Red  
Violets are Blue  
It’s Time for your Annual Checkup  
And a Cleaning too! ___

“Oh _fuck _me.”__

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“Buy me Chipotle first.”

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“Shut up, Shane.”

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Ryan threw the stupid greeting card over his shoulder and slumped on his desk. So much for the only card he’d gotten in the week leading up to Valentine’s Day. Not that he was actually expecting anything, since he'd broken up with his last girlfriend over a year ago. He’d made zero efforts to meet anyone else because he was kinda, maybe ~~pining for his stupid, floppy, overly-tall, possibly-a-demon, aggravatingly heterosexual best friend.~~ Who, in addition to doing _annoying _things at work like bringing him coffee, covering for him when he was late, and drawing stupid hotdogs on his notepads, also thought it was funny to fake-flirt with him. The “no homo” was implied. Great.__

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“Ooooh, someone’s grumpy.” Ryan heard Shane pick up the offending card and stifle a laugh. “But wait, your dad is a dentist. You can’t have two! This is like… an affair! You’re going to have to set, uh, Dr. Tinsley’s Dentistry straight. We’ll have to send him a card back.” 

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Ryan grumbled something unintelligible, not looking up from under his arms. Listen, everyone should be allowed at least one self indulgent, full blown pity party a year, right? And what better time than the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, when a dude can’t even take a piss without being assaulted by the images of ugly, smushy babies with bow and arrows that decorated Buzzfeed’s offices. 

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Shane ignored his mini tantrum, continuing on cheerfully. “Oh, I got it! _Toothfully, I cannot reciprocate. No hard fillings. Love, Ryan Steven Bergara. _”__

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“That’s awful,” Ryan giggled despite himself, “We can do better than that. _Sorry, I already have someone else to drill me. _”__

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“ _Ryan!_ ” Shane gasped in mock offense before leaning down to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, “ _my oral is covered._ ”

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Both boys were full blown cackling now. No one at the surrounding desks paid them any attention, used to the general idiocy. “But seriously,” Shane took his seat at the desk next to him, “let’s get to _the root_ of the problem. What has you so bummed?”

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“Boo! That one was a 2/10. Got any better?” Ryan tried to divert, but Shane just waited him out. He always did. “Okay, fine, this is just the first Valentine’s Day I’m spending alone in like 10 years and-”

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“You serial monogamist.”

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“-AND I don’t want to sit on my ass at home, but I don’t want to be one of those desperate people at a bar, but I also don’t want to go to Curly’s singles' party. Seriously, who bases a costume party on “famous people who died alone”?! Leave my boys Van Gogh and Edgar Allen out of this!”

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His friend’s face scrunched up in thought for a moment, tapping on his chin, “Welllllllllll, I might have something in the works for us.” 

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“Yeah?” Ryan would be fine with chilling with his best bud on V-Day. He knew better than to interpret it as anything romantic. “What is it?”

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Shane shrugged innocently and got up from his desk, taking one last look at the card before throwing it out. “Besides, your teeth are perfect anyways,” Shane muttered as he walked away, so quietly that Ryan probably misheard it.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on Ao3 and actually the first time I've written like this in years. Thank you SO MUCH for the kudos :)

The rest of the week went by without issue. Ryan was happy to lose himself in his sweet refuge of research on serial killers, death-pact cults, and sexytimes with aliens while throwing back four coffees per day. His co-workers pretty much left him alone, used to the glazed look in his eyes that meant he was balls deep in some rabbit hole and not to be disturbed. This was with the exception of Shane, of course. The idiot left this glittery pink card in front of Timmy’s blue ball. Nothing was written inside except, _“Heard you like balls!”_ And if that card ended up neatly tucked into Shane’s tuna sandwich later, he had no one else to blame. 

Then Thursday morning came, one day before the dreaded Valentine’s weekend. Instead of his alarm, Ryan awoke to a text.

 **Sasquatch in Heels:** i won a thing!!!! we got a free trip to a luxury resort this weekend!!! the gold boys are back babyyy!

Trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, Ryan read the text a couple times before responding:

 **Booster Seat Needed:** What the hell are you talking about??

Was he serious? Ryan rolled out of bed and pulled on an (ironic!) “I love the Hotdaga” t-shirt. Shane had been yanking his chain all week, but this would be a pretty elaborate prank. He didn’t have much longer to wonder before _ding!_ Shane sent a screenshot of an email from the Beverly Hills hotel- _holy shit!_ \- describing an all expenses covered stay in the Waldorf Astoria suite. No way. Ryan had heard of this place. It had re-opened after a grand restoration a few months ago, but people were already calling it one of the ritziest getaways in California. 

And the Waldorf Astoria suite went for TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS a night. It wasn’t just a status thing; the staff certainly made it worth it. He'd seen a walkthrough of the suite on Youtube. It had a fully stocked kitchen, dining room, gym, and even a private theater. It had its own concierge service for fuck's sake. Ryan didn’t think he’d ever be allowed in a place like that.

 **Booster Seat Needed:** REALLY??

 **Sasquatch in Heels:** Really really! We’ll be there Friday through Sunday.

 **Booster Seat Needed:** And you’re sure you want to take me??

This was a legitimate question. Of all people to take, Shane wanted him? It seemed, dare he think it, _couple_ -y. There was no significant other in Shane’s life to Ryan’s awareness. And he was certainly aware considering he was basically attached to the hip to the dude, who seemed content to spend his evenings throwing popcorn at Ryan on his couch, even after spending a 9 hour workday together. 

Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure of Shane’s sexuality. _Oh god_ , Ryan thought as he climbed into his car to get to work, _I was thinking ‘straight until proven not-straight’. I’m heteronormative!_ ” There was only one way to figure this out.

**Let’s get into the theories: ******

**Theory Number 1:** Shane was just a private guy. Maybe to other people, but Ryan was pretty sure they shared everything with each other, besides his giant, gross crush on his oversized praying mantis of a friend. The dude trusted him enough to share about the dead parrot he kept in his freezer for two years without getting the police called. And Shane had seen Ryan at his most vulnerable. He’d seen him lose his shit over a giggling doll and only made fun of him for like, three days. Was there really anything they couldn’t tell each other?

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**Theory Number 2:** Shane was just not a “feelings” kind of guy. Maybe Mr. “I love emotions, I have them all the time,” was just not into people like that. He seemed much more into things like plagues where people danced until they died, that weirdo. And Ryan would be cool with that. It’s no big deal. He’d just have to keep his undying devotion squeezed up inside his ribcage until he died, probably from something stupid like choking on a god damn avocado pit. Easy enough. He was almost 30 after all, so at most he’d have, like, 60 years left of having to say _I love you man_? Moving on.

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**Final Theory:** Now for the outrageous theory. Shane actually liked Ryan back. He actually laughed out loud a bit as he took his expresso from the drive-thru window, causing the employee to give him a strange look. Whoops.

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It’s not like Ryan had low self esteem or whatever. He spent enough hours in the gym to know he was a decently good looking guy, and he was funny and nice as fuck, if he did say so himself. 

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It’s just that, with Shane… They had been best friends for over six years now, talked about every weird subject under the sun without judgment, and never once did it come up that _hey man, can I try putting my penis inside your penis?_ or however guy-on-guy sex worked. Ryan felt his face get a little hot as he stepped into the elevator with Sara and Jen. He was bisexual, he was pretty sure. Maybe not “out and proud”, but cool with it. He’d just never actually been with a man before. Never really had a strong urge to before Shane. He tried to clear these sinful thoughts from his head as he got to his desk. 

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“Of course I want you to come!” Shane exclaimed to his left, headphones around his neck. 

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Ryan probably looked confused, because Shane began to ramble. “You’re my best ghoul friend! Actually, my only ghoul friend. And n-not l-like _girlfriend_ , I mean, like, a ghoul who is a friend. Even though ghouls don’t actually exist, but-" 

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Well, he didn’t know what to say to that. Looking deterred by Ryan’s expression, Shane kept going. 

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“I mean, if you want to come. I only really like, thought of you 'cause the place… is haunted!” 

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No way. Ryan took pride in having researched every potential location within 100 miles of them. He’d never heard of the Beverly Hills hotel being haunted. 

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“Yeah! It's possible. I've heard it’s just like, a low key ghost, who doesn’t interact with people mostly 'cause he just wants to... relax. It _is_ a resort.” 

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Ryan wheezed. “So what you’re saying is we’re about to meet the chillest ghost of all time? He doesn’t give a shit about haunting people, he just wants to blaze it and float in the lazy river for all eternity?” 

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“Hey. Everyone likes lazy rivers.” 

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“You’re a weirdo. Yes, I’m going to come.” 

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“Cool.” Both boys put on their headphones and turned back to their monitors. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hotel is a real place- check it out on Youtube:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2NuublxRWs
> 
> Is it realistic that they would do giveaways? No. Do I care? Also no.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what are Ao3 readers looking for these days? Smut? Impossible romantic situations that could never happen in real life? Bees? Pls let ya girl know.

Shane arrived at his door early the next morning to pick him up, two coffees in hand.

“Ready to rock and roll buckaroo?!” Ryan laughed, taking in his red Hawaiian shirt and sun hat. A minute ago, he'd been fretting about what to wear, but who cares when he’s with this idiot.

“Hell yeah!”

The drive was a relatively short one. Ryan sat back and gazed out the window, watching his small apartment building recede behind them, lost to the usual medley of Honda Accords, blaring horns, and middle fingers that was LA traffic. For once, it was Shane who broke the silence. 

“So, um, I have a few more details to share with you.” Shane’s long fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel.

“Yeah?”

“So like, the giveaway wasn’t intended for just anybody, it was specifically for uh, _couples_.”

“Oh.” Was Ryan about to get another aggressive speech about how he’s Shane’s _friend_? God, he gets it already.

Shane continued on, “I wasn’t worried about it when I entered our names, because I didn’t think we’d actually win, but we did... haha. What the chances? Like, how random is that right?”

“Hah, yeah, strange. It’s not a big deal, man,” Ryan lied. 

“Okay, good… because we’re-kinda-gonna-have-to-act-like-a-couple,” Shane rushed out.

“Wait, what?”

“Just for a little bit! I know it’s weird. But this is capitalism Ryan, they’re not gonna give away two incredibly expensive nights for free. It’s basically a promotional thing. It’ll be lowkey. They only really want a couple pictures of us enjoying ourselves at the hotel. Then they’ll leave us alone. The manager called me yesterday and said the staff is excited to host the famous ghouligans...”

“Okay, but isn’t it going to look like we’re an actual couple when the promotion comes out?"

Shane shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She made it seem like it'd just be a couple of pictures in a travel magazine. Besides, people who recognize us will just assume we’re here to catch ghosties. Or I guess, ghostie, in the singular-”

“Which we are,” Ryan lied.

“Yup.” Shane popped the “P”. He still looked tense, gripping the wheel tightly. Ryan took pity.

“It’s fine dude, really. I don’t actually care what people think. If I did, the internet would have a lot less videos of me shitting my pants. I just wanna chillax with my best bud.”

Shane’s face softened. “Really?”

“Yes. But just know, every time I call you “honey”, what I really mean is _move your ginormous head out of the way because you’re blocking my sunlight_.” Shane scoffed.

“And when I call you “baby”, I’m actually saying _who the hell allowed this squeaky gopher into my 5 star resort_.” Both boys wheezed and Ryan turned back to the window.

Alright, this could be fun. God knows the boys need some chill time. His mission, should he choose to accept it, was to spend a long weekend in close quarters with the man he was in love with and act in love, but not _too_ in love. Easy. Besides, they had spent so many nights together in locations of varying degrees of shitty-ness. This would just be the first nice place they’d stayed at. Would this really be so different? He stood up a little straighter as they walked inside to check in.

Shane exaggeratedly held the door open with a smirk. A little dazzled, Ryan was still looking back at him as he entered the ritzy, gilded lobby. He turned.

Blinding white light. Camera shutters. Applause. 

Disoriented, Ryan stumbled to the side, which happened to be where Shane was stumbling, and he tried to catch Shane as Shane tried to catch _him_ and somehow the boys ended up in a heap of limbs.

They groaned.

The silence was deafening.

Spitting out apologies, Ryan tried to scramble up from where his head was on Shane’s chest and his knee was precariously close to Shane’s groin. 

“Shit-sorry, fuck, ow- are you okay?!” Flustered was an understatement. Ryan tried placing his forearms on Shane’s chest to push himself upwards, and for God’s sake, he was now _straddling_ his best friend and-

Shane just smiled from below him, his stupid dad-hat slightly astray. He gently placed his hands over Ryan’s on his chest, stroking Ryan's right hand with his thumb. Ryan’s jaw dropped. A camera flashed. He barely registered it as he was currently lost in sleepy brown eyes, soft hair, and a lingering eyelash on Shane’s cheek. One of those brown eyes gave him a quick wink.

“Looks like we just got our first closeup,” Shane said in a voice lower than he’d ever heard before, “ _baby._ ”

Yup. Ryan was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please validate me by leaving a comment lol


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No chapter summaries we die like women.

Once the boys had effectively gotten their shit together, they were welcomed by the cheery manager of the resort, Katie.

“Welcome, Mr. Madej and Mr. Bergara!” she beamed, ignoring the shit show thirty seconds prior. The boys smiled weakly. She carried on, “Congratulations on winning the contest, we are so happy you’re letting us spoil you this weekend! Please let your personal concierge, Jack, take your belongings and show you to your suite. We have met all Mr. Madej’s requests, but please don't hesitate to let us know whatever you need.” 

“Thanks so much, Katie!” they chirped in unison. She grinned.

“Aww, you two are so cute, no wonder everyone predicted you would get together!” She reached up to boop Shane on the nose. He looked mildly offended.

“Requests?!” Ryan hissed as Katie walked away. His tall counterpart just shrugged with another wink. 

“I just love surprising you, baby.” If the next surprise was something like a fake wedding, Ryan was going to end Shane, Ricky Goldsworth style.

It felt a little weird handing all their stuff to Jack, but it did beat how they usually had to drag their recording equipment everywhere. It was nice. Jack was exquisitely dressed, leading them down a hallway lined with framed autographs and increasingly breakable furnishings as he talked about the hotel’s history.

“You’d be hard pressed to find another hotel that matches the Beverly Hills when it comes to history and glamour,” Jack informed them in a well-practiced tone, “The hotel originally opened in 1912, before the city even existed! We’ve hosted numerous actors, artists, and celebrities. The song “Hotel California” by the Eagles was actually inspired by this place.”

“ _Such a lovely face! Such a lovely place!"_ Shane sang, squishing Ryan’s cheek. He slapped his hand away.

Ryan was going to ask about the hotel’s darker history before the renovation, because he couldn’t picture a ghost from the 2000’s. Would probably be some douchebag with a vape and a selfie stick. But Shane took his hand as they made their way down the hallway, and Ryan’s questions were forgotten as the warmth made its way through his whole body. They arrived outside an ornate white door. 

“Alright, this your suite!” Jack exclaimed. “We hope you don’t mind, but there’s a photographer waiting inside for you. We wanted a picture of you two walking in for the first time.”

“Oh, we don’t mind,” Shane wrapped his arms around Ryan from behind, “I am just _so_ excited to spend time with my snookums.” Ryan’s cheeks burned. Wow, this dude was laying it on thick. Two can play at that game.

“Not as excited as I am, _angel face_ ,” Ryan retorted with his best attempt at a seductive voice, “We haven’t gotten to spend much time together these last few weeks.” _Lie. They’ve been practically up each other’s asses._ “I know how much you cry and sleep in my sweaters when I’m gone.” Admittedly, Ryan’s sexy voice sounded more like his theory voice. His angel face muffled a snort behind him.

 _“That being said…,”_ Shane whispered in Ryan’s ear. God, this dude is hard to faze. Jack, who they had both forgotten about, cleared his throat to their side.

“Okay, um, they’re ready for the shot!”

“Wonderful,” Ryan purred. Before Shane could respond, he turned around and quite literally swept him off his feet. All 80 feet of him.

“W-whoa!” It was a lot more awkward than Ryan envisioned. Shane wasn’t so much heavy as noodle-y. As Jack held open the door, their entrance looked less like a groom carrying his bride through the threshold and more like Ryan was wielding a human battering ram, considering he had to turn ninety degrees and shuffle sideways to fit all of Shane’s limbs through the doorway. 

Both idiots were unabashedly giggling now as they entered the suite. _Flash._

“Wow!” Ryan gasped dramatically as he looked around, abruptly dropping the love of his life on the floor. _Flash flash._

“Hey!” Shane griped from below him, rubbing his ass. Ryan was now doubled over laughing as he refused to help Shane up. … _Flash._

“Well… thank you Mr. Bergara and Mr. Madej,” the photographer looked somewhat disappointedly at her camera. “I’m sure we can use at least one of these.”

“No problemo!” Shane said cheerfully from the floor. 

Their paparazzi eventually crowded out and shut the door behind them. Ryan finally took a chance to really look around.

“Wow!!” He exclaimed, genuinely this time. The place was huge. They were standing in a wide living room with black leather furniture and one wall made entirely of glass. He could see all of downtown LA and even the Hollywood sign faintly in the distance.

And the place was _sexy._ Instead of the cheesy Valentine’s Day decorations Ryan was expecting, the white marble suite had just a few sultry touches. A bowl of chocolate covered strawberries on the counter. A vase of scarlet roses near the window. A crackling fireplace in front of a lush bearskin carpet. An abstract, but distinctly suggestive painting over the mantelpiece. Ryan let his hand run over the mahogany as he made his way to the bedroom. And in the center of the room? _A bigger-than-king-sized bed with a canopy and red silk sheets!_ He tried his best not to fantasize about what they could do in there. RIP to his dick. 

“Oh my gosh!” Shane exclaimed from a few feet away, “there’s even a Ryan-sized mini fridge in the bathroom! _Next to the jacuzzi!!!"_

Ryan rushed over to look. Did the jets work?! Sure enough, there was a black rectangular tub along the back wall, with headrests for two and champagne in an ice bucket next to a pile of fluffy towels. Rose petals delicately led up to the tub. Ryan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Did you, uh, request these decorations?” He asked nervously. Shane laughed.

“No, I’m not that classy. I asked for _this._ ” He grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him into an adjacent room. _He didn’t need to do that_ , Ryan thought, _nobody’s watching us anymore._ But then Ryan looked up, and might have squealed a bit.

So. Much. Popcorn.

Glass cylinders were mounted along three of the walls, dispensing popcorn in a rainbow of colors. The fourth wall had a small table with toppings, including parmesan cheese, caramel, and marshmellow. Awestruck, Ryan began to read the labels. Burgundy wine cheddar cheese, white chocolate strawberry, curry coconut, lemon sherbert, _beer?!_ He'd never heard of these flavors. That was saying a lot coming from a member of the "Kernelhead of the Month" club.

“So, um, do you like it?”

“I love it!” Ryan launched himself into Shane’s arms for a hug. And not one of those clap-on-the-back-I-love-you-man hugs. A full on, bona fide hug. _Huh, he smells good._ It lasted a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. Ryan stepped back with a blush. They’d never actually done that before. Shane coughed and looked down at his shoes.

“Glad you like it, man. Want to see the movie theater?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a fluff overload because some conflict and angst will be coming soon. Trigger warning for drinking in this chapter.

Thinking about it, Ryan supposed they were having more fun than an actual couple would. It'd be a lot of pressure to be with a significant other in a place where every amenity screamed _do something romantic, asshole!_ Plus, twenty grand a night better lead to some awesome sex. Not that he was going to get any.

Ryan and Shane were content to use the bed for other things. Like jumping on the slippery silk sheets until the bed creaked precariously and they remembered two grown ass men shouldn’t be doing this sort of thing. Shane slid off the bed and walked off. Ryan laid back and posted another goofy selfie to his Snapchat story. Because who would believe him otherwise? 

* * *

“The ghoul boys are out, the fancy boys are in!” Shane announced, whipping open the bathroom door. Ryan wheezed. He was sporting a navy bathrobe with “SM” sewn in gold thread above the chest pocket. It would’ve looked luxurious, except for the fact that it was _way_ too short on him. He posed, showing a scandalous amount of leg. “Go on, Ry-Guy, try on yours.” Ryan obliged and came out a minute later in his matching robe. Shane chuckled.

“You look like an idiot!” Ryan couldn’t disagree. Whoever thought it was a good idea to make these robes “one size fits all” was a fool. His robe dragged at his ankles, but damn was it comfy. 

“Look, I’m the average height for an American male! Are all the guests at this hotel descendants of big-foot or something?”

“And what would be wrong with that? Don’t you imply anything about my people.” 

* * *

The rest of the afternoon was similar to their normal hangouts, with some added pizzazz. They started out in the theater. The super high definition screen played “Gozdilla vs. Mothra” and its thrilling sequel, “Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla”, as the boys ordered increasingly ridiculous room service. They tipped Jack generously each time, especially after he somehow managed to obtain two specialty hot dogs from Knott’s Berry Farm.

“You’re a legend, Jack!” Shane slurred, a little champagne drunk, “Jackie boy, Jack attack, wait no! _Jack with the Snacks!_ ” Ryan chuckled into the sleeve of his bathrobe.

“Actually sir, it’s Jacque,” he responded politely, if not a little forced.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Shane jumped up and grabbed his wallet, “Here’s another tip for … the idiot fee!” Jacque’s smile returned.

“I’m sure it won’t be the last of that, Sir,” he said smoothly as he excused himself.

“ _Jackie boy!_ Not in front of the _beau!"_

* * *

After the movie, Shane played a truly horrific rendition of one of his hotdaga songs on the grand piano, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to smirk. Ryan kept forgetting to look annoyed. The tale about a pickle with low self esteem or whatever culminated with a cacophonous smash of the keys.

A while later, they perused through the impressive assortment of board games before choosing a classic: “Sorry!” They bribed Jacque and one of the maids, Hannah, to join them.

“Oh noooooo!” Ryan exclaimed, sloshing his champagne, “Looks like I have to knock off your piece, Jacque! I’m soooooo _SORRY!!"_ He sent the blue pawn flying into the kitchen.

“ _Watch it, jorts!"_ Jacque retorted before covering his mouth. Hannah gasped as the boys hollered with delight.

“You’re not digging my jean shorts?!”

“The true Jacque comes out!”

“You better not let our boss hear you talking like that!”

“Jacque, I promise you, if you continue calling Ryan “Jorts”, I will personally recommend this hotel to everyone I know.” Jacque genuinely laughed. It felt similar to when a cat who hates everyone purrs against your leg. Shane won. Everybody chucked their pieces at him. 

“Not fair!” whined Hannah as she grabbed another strawberry from their massive edible arrangement, “You two were conspiring with each other! I saw the secret looks!” _Huh? They weren’t giving any secret looks._ Jacque looked down at his watch and sprung up, smoothing his suit jacket.

“Your dinner reception starts in an hour. I have to go prepare. And please,” Jacque implored, looking them up and down, “wear pants.”

“You don’t like our bathrobes, Jacc the Snacc?!” Jacque sniffed and strode off.

* * *

The reception was a dinner in Ryan and Shane’s honor, even though they hadn’t actually done shit. All hotel guests were invited to join them in the hotel’s famous ballroom. Ryan gelled his hair in the mirror. He tried not to peek at Shane pulling on a light pink button down behind his reflection. _Dammit, how did he know that was his favorite?_

The boys began to make their way downstairs, still buzzed. Shane was struggling to lock the door with the key card. 

“Need some help?” An elderly couple in formal wear was walking by. The man helped Shane as Ryan gawked at the diamonds on the woman’s hand. _Old money for sure._

“I’m Trudy,” the woman extended her hand to both of them. “This is my husband, Terry. We’re staying in the suite next door.”

“Are you guys going to the dinner too?”

“Of course, my boy! But I’m surprised you two are going. With all those creaking sounds coming from your room, it sounded like you’ve been busier with _other_ affairs.” Terry shot them a wink. Ryan wanted to die a little. 

“Well, considering it’s the “Ryan and Shane” dinner, we’re sorta mandatory guests.” The couple’s faces lit up.

“Oh, you’re the Unsolved boys! I love your true crime series, but not so much the paranormal one honestly.” Terry turned to Ryan. “Orbs? Really?”

“I never said I was an orb guy! It’s just evidence that some people find compelling!” Ryan protested. 

“Good thing he’s cute, amirite?” Shane nudged Trudy, making her chuckle. The four of them made their way to the ballroom, chatting about this and that.

The group sat at a table together along one of the gilded walls. The banquet was delicious. The crystal chandeliers overhead became more iridescent the more Ryan drank. He was content to let the others take over the conversation as he leaned on Shane. _Who’s gonna stop him?_

“... Anyways, I actually met Terry when he was a waiter at a restaurant where I was on a date with another man. The guy was a bore and Terry kept coming over and making me laugh. He didn’t appreciate it when Terry scribbled “you can do better” with his number on the check.”

“I didn’t get a tip, but I got the lady!”

“Savage, Terry, truly.” Ryan’s eyes were closed, but he could feel Shane’s laughter vibrating through his shoulder.

“You have to tell us how you two met.”

“We started as interns together at Buzzfeed. Ryan had to work hard to win me over. See, he’s not my usual type. I typically have a “you have to be this tall to ride the ride” policy, if you know what I mean.” Ryan didn’t take the bait for once, tuning Shane out and focusing on the positively _glittering_ chandeliers. It was like Edward from Twilight was dangling from the fucking ceiling. He giggled. 

“Hey, you doing okay there little guy?” Ryan opened his eyes to see Shane much closer than he was expecting. His best friend’s eyes were glassy, but sparkling and his cheeks were flushed.

“You’re pretty,” Ryan mumbled. 

“And that’s when I know my little Paddington bear has had too much to drink.” Shane stood up and he instantly mourned the lack of contact. “Come on buddy, time for bed.”

“Wait a minute, you stopped drinking with me!” Ryan accused as he was dragged up by his armpits. 

“Course I did, dude.” Shane waved goodbye to their new friends. He was supporting most of Ryan’s weight. “I’m here to protect you. Mostly from yourself. Let’s go.” Ryan moaned and clutched onto Shane when the elevator jolted into action. He suddenly didn’t feel so good. He doesn't remember much after that besides, “Yo! _Jacque the Ripper!_ Can you get us another barf bag?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I named the couple after my grandparents :)
> 
> But dear God, I never want them to read this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst will be in the next chapter. This is just fluff coming out of your ears and/or various other orifices.

Hungover Ryan came back to the present gradually. Daylight. Sheets rustling beside him. The smell of someone using _way_ too many bath bombs wafting from the other room. And finally, bacon. Sweet, sweet bacon. He cracked an eye open.

“Morning, sleepy,” Hannah giggled. Ryan yelped and dragged the sheet up to cover his naked chest, before remembering he didn’t have boobs. “Oh, you’re fine, I’ve seen things in this hotel you don’t even want to know about.”

Hmm. That was an interesting statement. Maybe she'd seen the ghost? Ryan was about to ask when she placed a silver tray of the most _mouthwatering_ breakfast food on his lap. An assortment of fruit juices, danishes, eggs benedict, pancakes, and not to forget, bacon! The undead wandering the hotel halls for all eternity with a thirst for blood was forgotten. Ryan started stuffing his mouth with croissants.

“Your boy-toy ordered all this for you. Let me know if you need anything else.” Shane’s head popped in from the doorway to the bathroom. Speak of the devil. Or demon.

“Bergmeister! You’re up!” Shane plopped down next to him, stealing an almond ring off his plate. 

“Dude, you smell like a sentient flower field.”

“I don’t care. You know what the end of toxic masculinity smells like? Lush’s _Hello Gorgeous™_ collection.” Admittedly, he smelled wonderful. “Are you feeling okay? Your night went downhill somewhere between the fifth and sixth apple martini.” Ryan winced. Some of the memories were coming back to him. _Did he really cry on Shane’s lap about the Lakers losing last season?_

“I’m surprised you’re not making fun of me.” Shane gave him a soft smile and ruffled his hair. It was hard not to lean into it.

“Maybe when you’re feeling better.”

* * *

Once Ryan was up for it, the boys spent a few hours floating in the lazy river. Ryan eventually got bored. He looked over at Shane, who had somehow managed to befriend an entire group of ladies on a knitting retreat. Because apparently that’s a thing. He waived his limbs animatedly as he told some story Ryan’s probably heard a hundred times before. The retirees giggled, hanging onto his every word. Looks like Ryan had competition. Shane looked up from his audience and shot him one of his favorite crinkly grins. Ryan smiled back and gestured that he was heading back to their cabana. His friend nodded.

Ryan caught up with Jacque, who had become more of their babysitter than servant. Jacque bowed.

“What can I help you with, Sir?” Ryan suddenly felt the burning desire to spill.

“So Jacque, as my personal concierge, you’re bound by confidentiality, right?”

“I… suppose, Mr. Bergara. But if you’re really looking for legal advice, might I recommend our in-house attorney, Miss-“

“I gotta tell you a secret,” Ryan blurted.“You know Shane? Like, Shane and me? We’re not _actually_ a thing. Believe it or not, we’re just buddies! We’ve been pretending to date ‘cause we won the couples package. And everyone’s been buying it, it’s so crazy. Man, we should go into acting or something.”

Jacque was unimpressed. He handed him a towel. “That’ll be $20, Sir.”

“What?! I thought towels were free.”

“Ignorance isn’t. $20 for the idiot fee.” Jacque continued holding out his hand.

“What are you talking about?” The concierge rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Madej isn’t faking. He’s in love with you.”

“No he isn’t!”

“And you’re in love with him.”

_“No I’m not!”_

“I’ve seen more chemistry between you two than people here for their _weddings_ , Sir.” Ryan grumbled and slapped the money into Jacque’s palm. He's done listening to this.

“Fine. Well then can you please tell my _fake-but-not-actually-fake_ lover I’ll be getting a massage?”

“As you wish.”

* * *

  
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan had forgotten all about his _best friend who’s not in love with him but pretending to be in love with him but might actually be love with him_ crisis. The suction cups the masseuse was placing on his back felt so good. Why wasn’t he doing this every week? Oh right, ‘cause he was a broke ass bitch.

“It’s great to meet you, Mr. Bergara. My two daughters are obsessed with your show.” 

_“Mhmhhp…”_

“You two are the sweetest couple. I’m so glad you won.”

_“Mhmmm…”_

“But really, with that letter Mr. Madej sent in, there was no contest.”

_“Mhmm- what was that?”_

“His entry letter, silly! He had half the staff in tears.” Ryan lifted his face from the headrest.

“Wait, what?”

“Oh my gosh, he is _so_ humble. I can’t believe he hasn’t shown it to you.”

“Uh,” Ryan said intelligently. 

“Now that I’m thinking about it, he’s probably waiting until it gets published with the rest of the article.” Ryan felt a little strange, and that wasn’t just because he was beginning to look like human bubble wrap.

“Can I, um, see it now please?” he asked in a small voice.

“Oh I shouldn’t… But I just can’t resist! Don’t tell anyone I showed you.” She pulled up a screenshot of a letter addressed to the hotel’s management on her cell and handed it to Ryan. Silently, Ryan took the phone and started reading.

_**My best friend Ryan is an idiot.** _

Ryan rolled his eyes. 

_**He spends more time drowning in his anxieties than in reality. He’s more scared of what’s in an empty room than the weak foundation about to send him crashing through the floor. The guy’s more afraid of rolling flashlights than the early grave he’s heading to for constantly stressing himself out so much. To Ryan, a radio spewing nonsense is valid scientific evidence. A falling toothbrush is irrefutable proof of the afterlife. My co-host’s line of thinking is basically the opposite of Occam’s Razor; he considers the most ridiculous theory to be the most likely one.** _

Wow. Why doesn’t he just propose already.

_**That being said, Ryan is the kindest, funniest, most open-minded, intelligent, and creative person I know, and even that is an understatement.** _

Wait. What?

_**We met as interns at Buzzfeed. I was just a socially awkward beanpole from Chicago with an interest in producing. I wasn’t expecting to make any friends. I usually don’t. I have odd interests, and a weird sense of humor, and it’s not uncommon for people to find me strange and off-putting. I was used to being alone.** _

Hey. Ryan was the only one allowed to talk about him like that.

_**The first day, our workplace got everyone together for an icebreaker exercise. I sucked at those. When it was my turn, I said something about myself to try to be funny and get people to like me. I don’t remember what it was. Something about how I collect butterflies encased in glass. Everyone looked at me like I had two heads. Except Ryan. He burst out laughing and clapped me on the back. Even after my turn ended and others were sharing, Ryan would make eye contact with me every few minutes and wheeze. At that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.** _

Shane remembered that?

_**After that, it was too easy to become best friends. It was too easy to fall in love.** _

?????????????

_**I take pride in my logical way of assessing the world around me. God knows Ryan needs a rational counterpart. But if I’m honest, sometimes it feels like I’m missing one of my senses. I took an improv comedy class once because I’m a white guy. They told me to ‘just get out of my head’. I can’t, though. It’s a prison. I always have to think about things. I’m bad at feeling. I want to be able to be swept up in something the way Ryan can. I wish I could believe in something outside the realm of physics.** _

_**I’ve never told him this, but I consider Ryan my personal seeing eye dog. When I see a dilapidated house, falling apart simply because it was too expensive to repair, Ryan sees a historical murder mystery, brimming with affairs, betrayals, and hidden motives. A boring industrial building becomes a feat of architecture with a dark past, storing secrets waiting to be uncovered just outside your line of sight.** _

Okay, did ANYONE know Shane could write like this?!

_**Even when I already appreciate something, Ryan makes it even better. I’ve always loved the outdoors. With Ryan, a walk through the forest turns into a pursuit of big-foot evidence, or even a hunt for long lost treasure. I can almost see a mothly cryptid soaring beyond the tree line.** _

_**I had been really looking forward to our trip to England earlier this year. I’d never been so far from home. I expected a new country to feel totally different. Ironically, a London pub with Ryan was just that: a pub. I realized it didn’t matter where I was, but who I was with, my best friend in the world.** _

_**Everyone who watches the show knows me as the skeptic. That’s mostly true. I don’t believe in undead souls, or demonic possession, or voodoo magic. Though aliens are statistically likely to exist, I don’t believe they’re actually here abducting white dudes in cornfields. And I certainly don’t believe the human race is being mind controlled by an elite group of lizards living underground. But I believe in Ryan. I believe in the work we do. I believe in us.** _

_**Please choose us for the weekend giveaway because Ryan could really use a break from all the hard work he does. As much as I love him, if you don’t get him to stop fretting about making Unsolved the best it can possibly be, I might have to kill him.** _

_**Thank you for considering my application.  
-Shane Alexander Madej** _

Nope. Ryan’s brain short-circuited. Ryan.exe has stopped responding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this Shane's love letter to Ryan or my love letter to Ryan? The answer to that question will remain... unsolved.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's stuck with the story so far!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caution: angst ahead!
> 
> Would you guys guess that I'm a Shaniac or Boogara based on this?

Ryan remained frozen with Massage Lady’s phone in his hand. Nope.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

“Aww, honey,” she cooed. Ryan sniffled and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t realized he was crying. Nope. In the words of the great John Mulaney, _we don’t have time to unpack all that._

“I gotta go.” He bolted.

_“But you still have suction cups on your back!”_

* * *

Ryan rushed to his room, ignoring the weird looks directed at his backside.

 _“It was too easy to become best friends. It was too easy to fall in love…”_ He didn’t know what to feel. The letter sounded so genuine, so _Shane._ Is it possible his idiot brain had just been missing something this whole time?

Then again… If something were to ever happen between them, it would’ve happened already. And Shane told him right from the start that it was all a ruse. A damn good one. Ryan shut himself in the bathroom. 

He felt almost… hurt? The way Shane had written, it was like he’d had a front row seat to Ryan’s most private longings. The place his thoughts drifted to at 4am, when insomnia kept him hidden from the rest of the world, fast asleep. To think about Shane twisting those yearnings into a ploy for a free “I stayed in the Waldorf-Astoria Suite” paperweight was painful. 

The front door unlocked. He did his best to shove these feelings into the _“Not Today, Satan!”_ box of his mind. Ryan craned his neck to look backwards at the mirror. Sure enough, no less than five rubber suction cups trailed down his spine. Ryan strained to reach even one of them. What he had in strength, he lacked in flexibility. Well, this would certainly be a distraction. 

“Ry? You here?” Maybe not. 

Shane entered the bathroom, eyes widening at what must be a strange sight. Ryan waited for the joke that never came. There was something delicate between the duo, that neither of them wanted to break, but neither wanted to touch either. 

“Let me help.” Ryan nodded. Shane gave one of the cups a hesitant pull, and Ryan winced as he felt his skin stretch. This was not how he’d pictured Shane giving him hickeys. “Shit, sorry.” Shane braced his other hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I’m just going to rip them all off super fast, okay?”

_Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!_

“All done!” He whistled. “Those did a number on your back.” Ryan opened his eyes and saw the harsh red circles down his spine. Shane traced one absentmindedly. “So, um, how are you feeling?” _Physically or mentally?_

“My back feels fine, but I think my hangover came back,” he lied, “feeling kinda shitty.” _Not a lie._ Shane made a sympathetic noise.

“Want me to leave you alone?”

“Nah.” _Actually yes. Actually no, please stay forever. I don’t know!_ Shane rubbed his shoulder. 

“We can just stay here. I’ll go find something for us to watch, baby.” Shane reddened. “Oh hah, sorry, I forgot nobody else was here, haha.” He swiftly exited the room before Ryan could even begin to think of how to respond to that. God help them both. 

* * *

They watched television in the bedroom. Shane alternated between two of the most “dad” shows Ryan had ever seen: "How It’s Made" and "Pawn Stars." He was apparently riveted by the processes of assembling park benches and bargaining over a ceramic cat. Concrete proof you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with. 

Ryan was almost asleep. Shane took some pillows and begin walking towards the living room.

“Where are you going?”

“To the couch. The fancy bed’s all yours, baby! I’m such a good friend.”

“You don’t need to do that. It’s a big bed.”

“Oh… you’re fine with us sharing?”

“Yeah dude, why wouldn’t I be? We shared last night.”

Shane rocked on his heels. “Well, yeah, uh, you were pretty drunk so I wanted to look after you.”

 _Please God, Jesus, Allah, Krampus or whoever the hell was up there, protect Ryan’s poor gay heart._ “That’s really sweet of you, Shane.”

“Besides,” his friend’s face took on a wicked grin. “You were begging for it.”

“I was NOT!”

“Oh, please, Shaney,” He mocked in a poor imitation of Ryan’s voice, “Can you stay with me tonight? I’m afraid of the g-g-g-ghosts!”

 _“I WAS NOT.”_ Shane sensed he'd hit a nerve.

“I’m just joshin’ ya.” He carried his pillows back to the bed. “So, uh, right side or left?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know… you usually sleep between me and the wall on investigations ‘cause then there’s two barriers against the ghosties, but this bed is perfectly round and there’s no wall so…” _Was he stalling?_ What was so bad about sharing a bed with Ryan?! Did Shane only ever do it because he was forced to? Well, he kind of did…

“Just get in the fucking bed.”

“Oooh, I like when you talk dirty to me.” **No.** Ryan was not tolerating this kind of talk after what he read today. Shane needed to stop messing with his fucking head.

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Fine, _jeez_ , okay.” Shane slid in beside him. He tapped on the iPad resting on the nightstand. The room went dark.

“Don’t turn them _all_ off.” If Shane even _suggested_ he was afraid of the dark, he was going to strangle him. Fortunately, Shane’s always had the better sense of self preservation of the two.

“Oh okay, I’ll put the jellyfish lamp on a timer? Is that good?” The lamp was a glass tank next to Ryan’s side of the bed. Bioluminescent jellyfish lazily floated up and down the tube. A stream of bubbles spewed up from the seaweed at the bottom. Tiny lights illuminated the water in alternating color gradients. It cast a faint light show on the ceiling. Ryan adored it. He grunted. Shane took that as a yes. 

As per usual, Shane was irritatingly asleep within minutes. If only Ryan were so lucky. He wondered what other people’s brains felt like. Because right now his was hyper focused on the space between him and his… well he didn’t even know what Shane was to him anymore. 

It was a big bed. Ridiculously so. If Ryan really wanted to, he could scootch over and be up to four feet away from Shane. Would that be _“dost thou protest too much?”_ of him? Ryan's brain taunted him. _Two dudes, laying in a bed, four feet away 'cause they're not gay!_ If Shane had X-ray vision, he’d have seen Ryan’s traitorous boner through his stupid pillow wall a few seasons ago. 

Ryan could also get closer. Shane was knocked out enough not to notice. He watched the rise and fall of Shane’s chest. His long limbs were strewn out carelessly, vaguely resembling a skydiver. Both feet were exposed by sticking out from under the covers. Proof Shane didn’t fear death or God.

Like a child testing the limits of a new babysitter, Ryan wondered how much he could get away with. What would get him in trouble. He inched-wormed a bit closer. Shane muttered something in his sleep and Ryan froze. He gave up. He rolled over and gazed at the jellyfish lamp. The tinted water cycled from deep blue, to green, to red. Deep blue, green, red. 

_Deep blue… green…...red.........._

Ugh! He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

* * *

Ryan had pretty much forgotten about the ghost. It’s hard to be scared when you’re focused on repressing your undying love for someone. That was, until night two. 

Ryan didn’t know if he was dreaming or awake when he heard a strange whirring noise. He tried to open his eyes, but his body was too heavy. And he was dizzy. So dizzy. 

Wait… were they _moving?_

The lamp was off. When did that happen? He couldn’t get his bearings in the darkness. But they were definitely moving. Oh god, the bed was floating. They were suspended in air, spinning.

_Holy fucking shit holy fucking shit._

He had to wake Shane. They had to get out of there. But he _couldn’t move._ Ryan managed to fully open his eyes, which only made it worse.

Was that something in the corner of the room?

Ryan’s blood ran cold. The boys had finally pushed their luck with the supernatural to the limit. The end was nigh. And he never got to tell Shane he _like-liked_ him! The thought snapped Ryan out of his paralysis.

  
  


**_“SHANE!!!”_ **

  
  


That scream came from someone else. Ryan didn’t sound like that. Shane jolted awake. He fumbled for Ryan in the dark.

“Ryan? What’s going on? Are you hurt?!” He scrambled on top of his smaller friend in an attempt to be a lanky shield. Ryan was trembling too hard to respond. Shane was hugging him and stroking his back, too frantically to be calming.

“S-Shane,” Ryan gasped, “It’s the ghost. I c-couldn’t move. And now we’re levitating.”

“What?” His arms wrapped around Ryan protectively. “Wait, what the fuck, why is the bed rotating?” 

Did the idiot not hear him?!

“We’re _levitating!”_

“No, no that’s not right...” Shane muttered to himself. He let go of Ryan and crawled to the side of the bed. _Click. Click._ The glow from the jellyfish returned.

“Please d-don’t leave me,” Ryan sobbed. His breathing restricted. Shit. Here comes the panic attack. Hello darkness my old friend. Shane’s embrace returned instantly.

“It’s okay Ry, I won’t leave you. It’s fine, you’re okay. I’m here.” Shane’s voice took on that soothing tone specifically for calming a spooked Ryan. His warm hands rubbed his back. He spoke into his hair. “Everything’s fine. It was just the iPad. Stupid thing has a rotate button.” 

**Oh.** The spinning had stopped. 

At any other time this would’ve been hilarious. But he wasn’t getting enough air. Shane began to rock him gently. “Don’t worry Ryan, there’s no ghost. There’s nothing here; just you and me. You’re okay. _Shhhh._ We’re fine. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you. Try to breathe with me, okay?” He held Ryan’s head to his chest. He felt the slow rise and fall through Shane's shirt as breath tickled his forehead. He tried his best to keep pace with Shane. Oh god, it wasn’t working. This _always_ works. Why wasn’t it working?! 

“I’m gonna pass out.” Shane tried a different tactic. 

“Ryan… can you tell me how much that vintage condom case sold for on Pawn Stars? I can’t remember.” _Why is this moron asking him that right now?! Well, it sold for more than the ceramic cat, but it still wasn’t much. Maybe $40? But then again, it sold with something else..._

It worked. Ryan’s breathing slowed. He slumped into Shane as the tension in his body dissipated. His savior was quiet. He let Ryan come back to the present in his own time. Shane always seemed to know what he needed. He knew him so well. His friend’s earlier mocking rang in his ears and he flinched. Shane’s hold tightened. _Guess Shane was right; he was pathetic._

Shane squeezed one of his hands. “You with me, Ry?" Ryan made a small affirmative noise. One of Shane's warm hands rubbed his back as another carded through his hair. Humiliated, exhausted, and maybe a little horny, Ryan buried his face in the taller man’s neck. _God_ , that was nice. But he wasn’t fully satisfied with the skeptic's explanation. Ryan Boogara was not to be deterred. 

He had to reach across Shane to see the iPad. Okay, he could see the “rotate” button pretty clearly. But the time was… 3:03am. The devil’s hour. 

“Holy shit, what if it’s a DEMON!” Fuck, he hadn’t even brought his holy water. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“There’s no demon, Ryan. You had sleep paralysis and then I accidentally touched the iPad in my sleep, you can relax.” Even when Shane was comforting, it was still vaguely condescending. 

“I know you don’t believe, but can you for once just open your eyes?! The evidence is _right there-"_ He couldn’t even finish with his heart pounding this hard. Because of the fear, not ‘cause he was basically on Shane’s lap. He started working himself up again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake Ryan, there is no ghost because _I made it up,”_ Shane snapped. 

“You… _what?”_ Ryan jerked backwards. Shane released him immediately. “What the hell? Is this just a joke to you?” Shane’s pranks had never physically, emotionally hurt before. As much as Shane teased him, he'd always shown a basic level of respect for Ryan's beliefs. He still cared about Ryan's feelings. 

Shane sheepishly tried to reduce the tension. “I mean, getting scared shitless by a rotating bed is a little funny…” _Wrong move._ Ryan clenched his jaw and got up to leave. He didn’t even know where, just out of this ridiculously overpriced room. “No, Ryan wait! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made it up. Your investigations aren’t a joke to me, I promise.” 

“So _I’m_ a joke to you then? You fucking dick. I thought I was going to have a heart attack." 

“No, no Ryan…” 

He laughed bitterly, a jarring contrast to his usual wheezes. “You know, I wasn’t just scared. I was worried. For _you!_ Did you get your laugh, Shane? Did you get my panic attack on fucking camera? Gonna post it to Instagram?” Hot tears stung his cheeks. 

“No, it’s not like that! I didn’t plan this. I _hate_ seeing you upset, I never want that. This is awful.” 

“You’ve done things to scare me before.” But Ryan knew this was different. 

Hurt. So much hurt on Shane’s face. 

“I wouldn’t do this.” Ryan believed him, but that wasn't what this was really about. “I am so sorry Ryan. I would never do this to you. You believe me, right?” 

“No Shane, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realize what a _liar_ you are! "Randomly chosen winners", huh? Yeah, right. I know about the letter.” 

“- I shouldn’t have lied about the ghost, I just really wanted you to come with me and I didn’t want to make it weird. Which I guess now it’s really weird, I’m sorry, I just- wait, the letter?” 

“Oh yeah, your fake love letter about me that’s going to be published for all the world to see? Were you just never going to mention that?” 

The traitor's face went visibly red even in the relative darkness. He looked as rattled as Ryan on an investigation. “Oh… crap. They’re going to publish it? Can we stop them?” 

“Wow, didn’t even bother to read the fine print?” Ryan pulled on his jacket. 

“Wait, Ryan, please don’t leave. It’s the middle of the night and you’re upset. It might not be safe out there; I can’t protect you if you leave!” His shitty friend sounded genuinely worried. 

But protect him from what? There’s nothing out there. If Shane wanted to save Ryan’s heart from getting methodically pulverized like those poor soap bars in ASMR videos, it was too late. He continued haphazardly throwing shit in his suitcase. 

“ _Please_ stop doing that. I’m sorry, I get that you’re mad at me, I’ll sleep on the couch okay?” 

“Oh right, you’ll sleep on the couch because this is a _domestic_ argument?!” Shane’s face fell. “It’s great to know that the idea of being with me is such a joke too. Hilarious. I should have known you’re a liar; you’ve been doing it to everyone else this whole time.” That awful laugh again. That wasn't Ryan's laugh. “You almost convinced me.” 

“No… I didn’t mean... I’m sorry, Ry.” Shane had turned the nightstand lamp on and shoved on his glasses. Sitting there, with messy hair in the middle of a bed so big it made _him_ look small, his friend looked vulnerable. Upset. And Ryan could see he was crying. It was impossible to keep raging with a sight like that. 

_How dare you apologize so soon? I wasn’t done being mad at you!_

Ryan sighed. Props to him for making his best friend in the world cry. He’d never seen him do that before, not even when he was in a cave with twenty bats swooping at his head. Ryan’s an asshole. He can’t be mad at someone for not loving him back. 

“It’s okay. I mean, not really right now. But we’ll be okay.” He shrugged his jacket off and got back under the covers. 

“Thanks,” Shane replied softly. He got up to move. 

“No.” Ryan grabbed his arm. The touch sent a spark up his spine. As pissed off as Ryan was, he couldn't imagine being alone after possibly the most upsetting night of his life. He needed Shane. “You can stay. We’ll figure this out. Let’s just… sleep.” 

“Okay." And if that wasn't prove Shane would always give Ryan what he needed. Even if it hurt. "We can leave in the morning.” Ryan’s chest tightened. He huddled into himself; it was freezing now. _Click._ The room went dark. The bed stayed still. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this hurt more than I expected it to.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will this possibly end?!

The morning after was worse than Ryan's most regrettable one night stands. The boys danced around each other like retirees at a zumba class as they packed. The only words spoken were way too polite. 

“Sorry, I think you packed my toothbrush by mistake.”

“Oh I did, I’m sorry. Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Ryan hated it. He never wanted to hear “sorry” again. What did that stupid word even mean? They should change the name of his favorite board game to _“My Bad!”_

He wished he could make this better. He wished Shane would call him an idiot. A deranged conspiracy nutjob. A pint-sized basketball junkie. A terrible friend. Anything. 

He wished Shane would stop apologizing every time he was remotely in Ryan’s way. He wished Shane would look him in the eyes.

The closest he came to doing that was when Ryan’s dumb ass knocked over an entire shelf of toiletries. Shampoos, conditioners, body washes, and _whatever the hell beard wax was_ clattered everywhere. _He just wanted the one!_ If you didn’t steal the hotel shampoo, did you even go?

Shane burst into the bathroom, looking concerned. Ryan was sheepishly standing at the scene of the crime, clutching a _Hello Gorgeous™_ dry shampoo. The brand he claimed to hate. Come on, Shane had to make a joke now. 

But his hopefully-not-ex-friend just said, “Oh. You’re fine.” And walked out. Left Ryan alone to clean up his mess. Yesterday, his endearingly overprotective co-host would have fretted over him for at least a good minute. Yesterday, he would have helped him afterwards. Yesterday, he might have squirted him with shampoo and Ryan might’ve responded _I'm never forgiving you for that one_ with a lovestruck grin. _Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away._ Ryan distantly wondered if the Beatles had ever stayed here. If any of them had been secretly in love with each other and then fucked it up, too. _"Ringo,"_ his gaydar helpfully suggested.

But what could the boys even say at this point? Best to leave and forget this weekend ever happened. The best weekend of Ryan’s life, until a hot minute ago.

The estranged pair finished packing. During the last walkthrough to check if they’d forgotten anything, Shane noticed it on the pillow. A parting gift from the Beverly Hills.

Two thick silver rings. Tied with a ribbon onto an embossed card from Jacque, who somehow knew their ring sizes. “Manly” rings, besides the fact that one had a heart jutting out and the other had an indent where the heart _should_ be. Ryan knew which one was his. Of course, they fit together perfectly. 

“These… are probably expensive,” Shane said. That’s one description.

“We should just take them then.”

“Yeah,” Shane tossed the rings to Ryan like they were nothing. They chinkled as they landed in his hands. “Give one to your next girlfriend.”

Can you say _ouch?_

* * *

  
  
Jacque ushered Ryan and Shane into the lobby for one last picture. They stood awkwardly in front of the hotel fountain. The photographer gestured for them to pose. The boys weren't like the rings; they didn't know how to fit together anymore. Hands on shoulders would signify friendship. Hands on waists would signify intimacy. Hands on dicks would portray Ryan’s late night fantasies. Hands on hands would signify they hadn’t just ruined a 6 year friendship and possibly a working relationship as well.

 _Flash._ The photographer was seconds away from forcing them to wear a “This is Our Get Along Shirt,” when Shane saw him. He dropped his hand, which had ended up on Ryan's freaking elbow. Ryan did the same. Shane stomped off and Ryan followed. _Was it time for the screaming match to just get it all out there and hopefully make up?_ Ryan was so ready. But Shane wasn’t looking at him. He followed his line of gaze. Why is he staring at a dude in a rose colored suit?

“Is that guy a celebrity or something?”

“He’s my ex,” Shane whispered, “Now be quiet.”

“He’s… a guy?!” Shane looked at him like he was a moron.

“Yes he’s a guy, great observation,” Shane hissed, “Now keep your fucking voice down.” Too late. Salmon Suit looked up from his blackberry. _Oooh, too good for team iPhone?_

“Wait, I think I’ve seen this guy before.”

Shane gave him a questioning look. “Where?”

“On… Grindr.” Shane just stared at Ryan as the man walked towards them.

“Hey, Shane,” said a smooth voice. Ryan couldn’t deny the dude was attractive. Sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and an easy smile. And the guy was _tall._ Almost as tall as the human gumby standing next to him. So basically, this guy was the opposite of Ryan. And this is what Shane is into. Ryan may as well go fuck himself.

“Hey Mark. This is my, uh, friend Ryan.” So what, Shane didn’t feel the need to tell him they were a couple. Okay, fake couple. But he had told everyone else!

“Hi,” Ryan said stiffly. 

The man looked between the two for a moment, a slight frown on his face. “Well, uh, nice meeting you Ryan and it’s nice to see you Shane. Let me know if you ever want to get dinner and catch up sometime.” And he was gone. Ryan was fuming. _Dinner?!_ Shane became very interested in the carpeting. Ryan glared at the back of Salmon Suit's head, his evil eye likely cursing him with inconvenient boners for the rest of his days. Good. 

“We have to go back up,” Shane said casually, “I forgot my phone. And maybe some other stuff.” _So no comment on Pinky-Boy trying to catch a ride on the Madej Express?_

Without a word, Ryan marched back into the elevator. Shane trailed behind. They'd probably both planned to give each other the silent treatment, but damn if it wasn’t a long ride up to their suite. 

“Look, I get why you’re still mad at me for the stupid letter. I’m gonna go talk to the manager right after we check out-“ Ryan huffed and pushed him aside to enter their room. “Oh come on Ryan, what can I do to make this okay?” 

Something snapped inside him. Maybe a rib, maybe his resolve, maybe the last shred of his heterosexuality. Regardless, Ryan was done.

“You never told me you were gay!” he blurted.

“Wha- you never told me YOU were! What the hell man, I thought we were best friends!”

“I don’t know, I thought you knew? It never really came up. What, was I supposed to tell you right when we first met? _Oh hey, looks like we’re gonna be interns together also I’m super gay._ ” They glowered at each other for a solid minute. Ryan crossed his arms; he was going to win this stare off. Shane’s lips turned up just a fraction. 

“Hi Super Gay. Nice to meet you, I’m Shane.”

Ryan put his fist over his mouth. That was _not_ funny. 

But then Shane quietly sang, “Super Gay, to the rescue…!” and they both lost it.

“That’s such a lame dad joke”, Ryan giggled, “Are you gonna tell me you’re secretly a father now, too?”

“Only to Obi.” Shane grinned, before looking down and scratching the back of his enormous head. “Besides… I didn’t think it would matter to you.”

 _What was that supposed to mean?_ “Of course it matters!” Shane raised his eyebrows. “I mean- not in an _oh no my best friend is gay_ way. It doesn’t change anything. I don’t, like, see you any differently.”

“Well then, why does it matter?”

Shit. Ryan had backed himself into a corner. He could feel Shane’s eyes on him as he resolutely looked at the stupid fern in the corner of the room. He knew his friend well enough by now to know he was going to wait him out. Due to his unnerving level of chillness, Shane wasn’t the type who needed to always fill the silence. He didn’t squirm in discomfort like Ryan. 

He also knew Shane well enough to know he’d let him back out of this if he really wanted to. He had this innate ability to know what he could poke Ryan’s buttons for and what he should just leave alone. And before this weekend, Ryan probably would’ve just backed out. Said, _“You’re right, it doesn’t matter! Let’s go back and enjoy our champagne and chocolate covered cherries in our complementary matching silk pajamas like the two confident-in-their-masculinity bros we are!”_ They would've moved on. But something seemed… different? That letter was pretty direct, if any of it was true. Guess it was time to be brave.

“I mean, I’m into guys and you’re into guys, but neither of us knew that so we never really got a ch-chance to even t-try, uh…” he stammered. 

“Yeah?” Shane asked softly, taking a step forwards. Ryan looked up and saw he wasn’t the only bashful one in the room.

“That letter,” Ryan said slowly, “did you mean any of it?”

“...All of it. Look, I’m sorry people have seen it, I didn’t know-“

 ** _This moron!_** Ryan was beyond over this. He closed the distance between them, reached behind Shane’s shoulders, squeezed his eyes shut and went for it. 

His eyes opened again after his lips dragged through light stubble. Not unpleasant, but also not what he was going for. He had kissed his jaw. Mortifying. He'd never stood this close to Shane, and it was now abundantly clear there could never be lip-on-lip action without some teamwork. _Oh my god, was he really that fucking short?_

Shane smirked down at him. Ryan felt even smaller. His expression was _wicked_. _Oh, shit._

Before he could shriek, “FIVE FOOT TEN-“ Shane’s mouth was on his. Actually, properly on his. Damn, Ryan had been missing out. His big hands slid down Ryan’s back to grab hold of his waist. Ryan buried his fingers in the hair he’d been _dying_ to touch for so long. Ryan’s back pressed against the front door, closing it the rest of the way. Shane took control of the kiss easily, sneaking his tongue into Ryan’s mouth for a few seconds before pulling back and leaning their foreheads together.

He kept the smaller man pinned against the door.

Ryan’s head was spinning. He felt like he had just had his ass probed by an alien; everything was new and a little weird but so nice. _Wow, maybe he is into butt stuff. Also, oh my god, the final theory was right! Shane liked him back!_

Speaking of, his best friend on the planet was lingering in their embrace, stroking Ryan’s cheek as they breathed slowly, foreheads still touching. Ryan was surprised he hadn’t melted into a puddle. Hannah would be pissed about having to clean that up.

Breathing more heavily, Shane's hand slid down Ryan's low back. His fingers skimmed the curve of his ass before sharply hitching a thigh around his hip. An expression he’d never seen before crossed Shane’s face before he carefully pressed his tented crotch into Ryan's. _Lust. Hunger. Dominance._ It was impossible to suppress a moan. Neither man dared venture farther than that. But Shane wasn't letting Ryan go either. 

Ryan's heart was about to explode. Or hard-on was about to explode. Whatever.

Someone had to break the silence eventually, and of course it was going to be Ryan. It was just too damn much. They were never this serious. He had to break the tension.

“Can I, uh, put my penis inside your penis?” _Immediate regret._ Shane jumped back. His face comically shifted through several emotions.

_“WHAT?”_

“Also, I’m in love with you.” Well, fuck. Looks like he had no control over his mouth today. Ryan almost slid down the door, his pounding heart and shaking legs refusing to support him. But of course, Shane caught him. He tilted Ryan's chin up. His _soulmate’s_ face had finally settled on an expression. Pure fondness, and maybe even a bit of wonder.

“I'm in love with you too, you fucking idiot.” He drew Ryan back in.

_Flash._

“How the hell did the photographer get in here?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burns, am I right? Since 11,000 words only led up to one kiss, I updated this chapter to try to make it as sexy as possible. Did it work?
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's stuck with the story! All that's left is the epilogue!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you artistically inclined folks are inspired to draw one of the candid photographs of Shane and Ryan from this story, I might quite literally die of happiness.
> 
> My tumblr is not-theonlydreamer :)

Everything was pretty great after that. The boys decided to stay. And now that the idiots had actually learned how to communicate, they made up.

On the couch. And the carpet. And in the jacuzzi. But not in the bedroom. The idea of a rotating bed became less sexy once Shane became nauseous and had to rest his head on Ryan’s lap for twenty minutes.

* * *

Ryan remembered the rest of the trip in snapshots:

The boys got dangerously experimental with the chocolate fountain.

The boys initiated a dance-off with other guests to see who could bust the best moves to elevator music.

The boys got kicked off the elevator. 

The boys learned exactly why shower sex is more fun in theory, which resulted in Shane’s refusal to touch Ryan for the rest of the day. “Oh _come on!_ It’s just a _bruise_ on my _ass_ , Shane! Now _fuck me!”_

The boys ate too many hot dogs.

The boys took turns pounding on the bathroom door.

The boys flooded the toilet.

The boys begged Jacque to take the fall. _"Please, **please** , Black-Jacque, this can't end up in the article!!!"_

Black-Jacque threw the boys under the bus.

The boys found the dejected photographer scrolling through her shots in the lobby. She despaired at their outfit options. She took new pictures anyway. It really did look better with Shane carrying Ryan through the threshold. They offered to sign one of the photographs to mount in the hallway with the others.

“Oh _dears_ ,” she laughed, “you’re not relevant enough.” **Touché.**

The boys stole the bathrobes. Which, come to think of it, were probably a gift anyways. The thrill remained.

The boys dared each other to put the suction cups on their faces. 

“Do it; you won’t.”

 _“No, YOU won’t!”_ What followed? Exactly what you’d expect. Their cover story about an epic bar fight wasn’t compelling, considering the bruises were _perfect circles._ They claimed alien abduction instead.

* * *

It was a bummer when they finally had to leave. “Had to” being the key phrase. Jacque arrived at their door that evening to effectively give them, “ _the boot_ , Sirs.”

Terry and Trudy invited them to stay on their yacht this summer. _(Their yacht!!!)_ Terry and Ryan made a bet over how long it would take for Shane to force him to make the Titanic pose. Shane gasped in offense.

“And to think, I was going to let you paint me like one of your french girls!”

Katie said the article should be out in a month or so. Also, they were permanently banned from the hotel. Hannah crushed them both in a hug. And finally, the hardest goodbye:

“We’re going to stay friends after this right, Flap-Jacque? Can't we at least add each other on _LinkedIn?”_ The man in question held his palm out.

“Idiot fee.” 

Then the concierge snuck a peak at Ryan's turned back and whispered a secret:

 _“The jellyfish lamp is already in Ryan’s apartment. You can take the credit.”_ Jacque the legend, indeed. 

* * *

After the trip ended, Ryan was overjoyed that he could spend even more time with the man who gave his heart a boner. An affection erection, if you will. 

Ryan gave Shane the other ring. Speaking of, Ryan panicked one morning when he couldn’t find his ring before work. It showed up on his desk, with a fresh engraving inside: _“Brave of Heart; Dumb of Ass.”_ Ryan returned the favor. Shane’s missing ring turned up on his kitchen table a week later, inscribed with _“Beyond Human.”_ A reference to how amazing Ryan thought Shane was, and also to his boyfriend's probable cryptid status. Tracing his fingers over the letters, Ryan marveled at what had changed and what hadn't.

They still squabbled over theories. Shane made it clear that going _Facebook official_ didn't mean he was going to go any easier on his believer. The only change was that these quarrels ended in _kissing_ and then _giggling_ and then no one else wanting to go into the soundbooth for the foreseeable future. Whoops. Young love, right?

Ryan was exactly the same, except for begrudgingly becoming a cat person. Shane was the same lovable goof as before, but less mysterious. Ryan learned Shane had a birthmark behind his left hip. He learned where Shane’s thoughts drifted to when he zoned out on camera. He learned Shane could sit by water and listen to Bon Iver for hours without saying a word. He learned Shane would quite literally kill or die for his little sister.

And Ryan learned Shane wasn’t invincible. He got scared. He had fears, worries, and a few phobias he only felt comfortable sharing with Ryan. Most made sense, revolving around losing the ones he loved. Some were straight up ridiculous. 

“Dude, it’s okay. It was just a dream. It won’t happen, I promise. _Just don’t eat avocados, man!”_ Even if Ryan didn’t understand, he still protected his boyfriend’s secrets.

As wonderful as it was to become intimately familiar with all the elements that came together to form Shane, some mysteries were best left… unsolved.

_“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT? SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR WHEN YOU SHIT, SHANE!”_

Oh and also, Ryan kept a folded copy of Shane’s letter tucked in his wallet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everybody for reading and providing feedback! I enjoyed writing this so much and it did wonders for my depression. Let me know if you’d like me to write anything else!
> 
> Also, please repent for your RPF sins by donating to Watcher’s patreon! I’m only paying $5 a month, and the extra content is more than Worth It™. Get it? 'Cause of Steven’s former channel?! Alright, I’ll show myself out. *Fingerguns*


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